More Than Just a Reading Slump: AuDHD Burnout in Chaotic Times
Well, hello there. Remember me? The guy who used to talk about books? Yeah, it's been... a minute. Or several million minutes, give or take. If you follow me here or on my other platforms (especially the ones demanding short-form video energy I currently lack, like TikTok and Instagram), you’ve probably noticed the silence. My usual flow of book reviews, reading updates, and writing thoughts basically ghosted everyone around the end of January. There’s a reason, and I wanted to try and wrestle it into words, especially for fellow neurodivergent folks whose brains might also be running on fumes and the quiet terror of being.
As many of you know, I identify as AuDHD (Autistic + ADHD). For me, this means my brain, bless its over-analytical heart, is wired for intense pattern recognition and a deep, sometimes inconveniently strong, sense of justice sensitivity. Usually, these are my superpowers for reading and analysis. Lately, though, particularly since the inauguration, watching current events unfold has felt less like observing and more like my brain insisted on getting a front-row seat to the dumpster fire, complete with popcorn it can't even taste. Seeing certain trends has been deeply disturbing, hitting that justice sensitivity nerve like a rogue tuning fork. It feels like the world is metaphorically (and sometimes literally) burning, and my brain, apparently missing the 'off' switch for 'existential dread,' hasn't been able to look away.
This external overwhelm hit right as my personal world apparently yelled, "Hold my beer!" I started a demanding new job as a client advisor at a luxury car dealership. Hopeful, yes. But the role heavily relies on communication skills, which, for my particular brand of neurodivergence, is occasionally like asking a cat to herd squirrels. It's been... educational. And a significant source of 'character-building' daily stress.
Then, life, clearly sensing I had too much free time and emotional stability, decided to throw in a few extra bonus rounds:
I caught COVID for the first time in early February, which was delightful. Physically knocked me right out.
Our roof decided to embrace its inner colander, leading to ongoing repair sagas and surprise indoor water features.
Not to be outdone, our sewer backed up, forcing an impromptu basement carpet replacement – another unexpected disruption and hit to the ol' wallet.
Suddenly, I wasn't just dealing with the low hum of global anxiety; I was juggling actual illness, home crises requiring more towels than I own, job stress, and the financial 'fun' that tags along. Trying to sell luxury cars when the economic mood is 'maybe we just barter with beans?', especially with added pressures like high tariffs, while feeling like a damp dishrag... well, let's just say my bank account isn't exactly singing opera. Which adds a delightful little sprinkle of panic to the mix.
The result? Burnout. Not the cute, 'I need a spa day' kind, but the deep, systemic 'my operating system has crashed and refuses to reboot' variety. I haven’t felt this mentally unwell, this submerged in overwhelm, since 2001 – a benchmark I really hoped wasn't on my 'Life's Greatest Hits' album. The joy I usually find in life – my marriage, my family, my hobbies – feels like it's behind soundproof glass.
And that brings me back to the reading and writing. My ability to focus, to sink into a book, to string coherent thoughts together for a review, or even script a 30-second Reel… it's basically packed its bags and left without a forwarding address. I finished one book back in January and lacked the brainpower to even tweet about it. Since then? Crickets. For someone whose baseline is inhaling 2-3 books a week, this feels like losing a limb, or at least my favorite pair of sunglasses. It's not just a lack of time; it's a profound lack of cognitive and emotional bandwidth. My AuDHD brain, usually a chaotic but productive whirlwind of ideas, is currently transmitting mostly static, like a radio tuned between stations in a bunker.
This is why the posts stopped. The occasional stray thought might escape onto Threads, but the energy required for anything more substantial? Currently on backorder with my brain's supplier. Creating content requires executive function, focus, and emotional reserves – three things that seem to have evaporated.
I'm writing this not for sympathy (though hey, commiseration is welcome!), but for understanding, and maybe as a flare signal to anyone else feeling similarly adrift in the static. Functioning as an AuDHD person in a world dialed up to eleven, while juggling personal life plot twists, is... a lot. Our sensitivity can be great, but man, does it make us susceptible when the overwhelm hits critical mass.
I don't know when Regular Ryan™ or his regular posting schedule will return. Right now, I'm just trying to navigate day by day, armed with caffeine and crossed fingers, managing the immediate crises, and hunting for small pockets of quiet.
Thanks for your patience and for sticking around. If any of this chaotic ramble resonates, feel free to share in the comments. Sometimes, just knowing you're not the only one whose internal radio is stuck on static makes a tiny difference.
Take care,
Ryan
